Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Friday evening I saw Lucian. Like many of our dates it involved an artistic performance and dinner, this time a small theater company in his neighborhood and later dinner at a small bistro. Returning to his apartment he asked me to sit with him. I did snuggled under his arm.

He then told me that he had been diagnosised with colon cancer a few weeks earlier and his second radiation treatment had been earlier in the week. I had noticed he seemed a bit wan, but hadn't asked; I'm often not sure where the boundaries should be so I usually let the client determine what is too personal for our relationship.

That night I sensed Lucian wanted to talk and we did. He told me that the doctors have assured him that they caught it early and that the type of cancer is among the more treatable. At some point I asked him if he was afraid; he didn't reply right away but after a few minutes admitted that he was and that he also felt alone.

Lucian is estranged from his wife and children. I don't know the details and they pre-date his arrival in Paris. His daughter and oldest son side with their mother, his other son lives in Buenos Aries and isn't taking sides.

With a wry smile he told me sex was off the menu that evening as he had an equipment failure. But company and conversation filled he bill.

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Another awful fire here. France in many ways is a wonderful and supportive place, but the manner in which it ignores the conditions of immigrant community, particularly the west Africans, reveals and ugly racism that is as bad as racism that exists in the US today. It is not only the far right, the left is all too willing to let the situation fester and papering it over. On this issue I am not very proud of my adoptive home.